Armored Core: Fear of the Fall
by ClefJ
Summary: A few months after the events of And the Raven cried Nevermore. The Tenlos Syndicate was mentioned by Raven, but it was never mentioned since. Now, it seems that Mars and Zio Matrix want Earth back. Gustave finally reaches his intended destination...
1. Default Chapter

Fear of the Fall

I am thy father's spirit,  
Doomed for a certain time to walk the night,  
And for the day confined to fast in fires,  
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature  
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid  
To tell the secrets of my prison-house  
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word  
would harrow up thy soul...

Prologue

It was cold. So very cold... Gustave could hardly inhale without shivering. A type of immortality was not without its risks. Being unable to die from natural causes does nothing to prevent natural pain. Coldness, anxiety... loneliness. It was there, as obvious as the emptiness of space. 

He had made a deal some weeks prior to his other selves, _do not surface and you shall be preserved. _Ha, what a joke. Although the lack of screaming voices was a blessing, now it was a curse. Seeing the preserved corpse of Alicia, he ever so needed someone, some_thing_ to talk to, even if it had to be _himself_.

Trotting through the empty corridors of the space satellite command area, he had nothing to do but reminisce about the past. Pathetic, he thought, worrying about his fate. If this was to be his atonement for his sins, so be it... 

"NO!!" he shouted, "I can't accept this... this FATE! I won't accept it. I just will not give in to madness..." 

He looked to a window closest to him. The stars were brilliant, but his attention was focused to his reflection, "How long? How long have I been stranded in this purgation... Three months? Four?"

He smiled. Wait... he noticed that _he_ wasn't smiling, but his reflection?

_"Approximately two months, three weeks and a day."_

Gustave stumbled back, fell to the floor against a wall, but his reflections on the walls were still grinning. He tried admirably well to hide the fear and surprise in his voice, "You... I thought we had a deal."

The reflections combined into one figure of Gustave, a translucent shadow in the air, a sober expression now rested on it's face, "You thought we made a deal? Heh, a deal is a form of agreement that expresses equality. Rest assured, there is nothing _equal_ about us."

Gustave slowly rose from the wall, "W-what are you doing here, now?"

"Shouldn't it be obvious? You are not exactly Human... you must've realized this. You should have, anyway."

"...Explain!"

The ghostly figure walked forward, "Well... for starters, there's a reason for _me_ to exist. You are older than you think. Each one of us persona's must live for sixty years, then fade away. Your body slips into a coma, regenerating to an infant state. A new life is made for you, but _we_ are ever present."

Gustave tried to believe what he was hearing. He was skeptical, but wanted to hear more. The reflection continued, "You are the seventh generation of the Engelhaft clan leader. The 'Engelhaft' is an ideal that power should not be separated. If power combines, there is no ensuing chaos. However, humans have the tendency for separation. That is why two castes of humans were made; one stayed on Earth to hide in Layered Cities after the Great Destruction, the other headed for Mars.

"The Engelhaft were a long-term experimental investigation command team that came from Mars fifty years after the Great Destruction to infiltrate the LC's. They were to stay and gather information for several centuries, and to keep the Controller operational; so when Mars decided to return, there would be no competition. However, a part of Engelhaft broke off with their own ideals, and called themselves 'Union.'

"But back on Mars, from what we gathered from Kisaragi, the Engelhaft were blacklisted and deemed unnecessary. They now hide in exile, away from the Corporations that infest Mars. If we want to return to Earth with the forces necessary, we must rally our allies on Mars. From there on, we simply-"

"Wait!" shouted Gustave. He walked up to his reflection with an enraged look, "I have had no say in this?! How dare you use me for your petty schemes!"

"You have no choice. You are NOT Human... so why do you deny the facts? Raven disgraced you and ruined_ my_ plans, we have every right to return with force!"

"You are gravely mistaken. I do intend to return to the Engelhaft... but to live the rest of my life in peace."

The reflection slapped a skeptical expression on his face, disgusted at his 'successor,' "Peace? Feh, peace is highly overrated. Your hands are already stained with blood, and you refuse to let go of a worthless felling... and for a _corpse_." he motioned towards the frail figure of Alicia lying on a reclined chair.

Oh, that did it. Gustave would hear no more from this abomination. Jun may have awakened these past forms of himself, but _they_ were not necessary. "Go... before I jettison your beloved vessel into space."

The reflection looked startled, "No, you wouldn't..?"

"Oh?" Gustave commented as he made his way to the main hatch.

The reflection appeared immediately in front of him, "You can't! Centuries of knowledge would be lost forever..."

"What do _I_ care? The fear of death holds no power over me." Gustave said as he walked through his reflective self. The hatch was just arms length away. Everything was lost to him, so he didn't lie when he said that he doesn't fear any death. Besides, there were things far worse than death.

The reflection appeared enraged, and Gustave could feel it inside his head. Before he could reach the switch to empty the atmosphere, the pain returned. An unwelcome pain, submissive... All of his former selves were forcing him back deeper into his mind, away from conscious thought. He suppressed a shout, but it was all too much. 

Gustave screamed, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging from his forehead. Then he collapsed onto the floor, and the darkness overtook him.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

RISING

Three months after the destruction of the space satellite and the dissemination of former Kisaragi, peace on the Eurasian continent is kept by the Earthian Arch Ravens. A dangerous criminal task force, one of the many cells of the Corporate Sector Authority. They work in a covert manner and take on missions such as putting an end to serious criminals, suppressing major incidents among the corporations, and controlling public knowledge of these events. Arch Ravens always conduct their investigations alone. Many lose their lives during their assignments; the survival rate stands at less than 30%. One could say they might be equals to Martian "Nine Breakers."

Among this elite group of ravens lies Roihclem. His true name remains unknown, his age and origin are obscured even more. This information, if any gets out, he silences the educated himself.

During his search for one Gustave Macross, he felt like collecting his thoughts at a nearby public house. He sat at a corner booth, his scotch on the rocks sat there at the table in front of him. No lighting was present at the booth, a red curtain covering each one individually. The bar was almost vacant; there were a few bums and MT pilots looking for work. Ergo the lack of noise to disturb his thoughts.

Roihclem thought about the past, three months ago. After his former agent, Fiona Tierney, suggested the assassination of the Kisaragi CEO, he immediately left for space in his light-medium weight Gemfire. He had heard Macross and Ramirez give their declarations to the planet as he headed for the space satellite. 

However, as soon as he reached orbit and headed for the satellite, it was already descending into the atmosphere. A little closer, and the steel fortress began to break apart. Roihclem couldn't believe that his quarry was already taken care of... by another _raven_. Before the satellite completely detonated, he saw a small segment break away with great velocity headed to outer space. As well, he also saw another AC fall down to the planet's surface. Roihclem had his doubts that the pilot could survive reentry, but...

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by another being enter the shadowy booth. The man sat down across from Roihclem as he ordered his own drink at a distance from any waitress. 

Roihclem unsheathed his pistol and held it under the table at the intruder, "You have five seconds to leave, or my current counts of manslaughter will once again increase."

The man motioned towards the curtain opening, where Roihclem saw a fine-dressed agent at the bar holding his pistol under his right arm, which was resting on the counter.

The intruder slipped a card towards Roihclem slowly. It was the emblem of the Arcadia of LC 386. Roihclem withdrew his pistol, "So... how've you been? I thought you finished business with me long ago."

The elderly AC pilot, aptly named Ace, shrugged. "It appears that you haven't changed . . . in _all_ respects."

"Yeah? And you?"

"You can see for yourself. Forty years seem to have an effect on _normal_ pilots..." Ace put his arms over the table, a grin on his wrinkled face, "Anyways, perhaps you might be interested in details pertaining to your only failed mission."

Roihclem suppressed an angry smirk. Ace continued, "You know. The space satellite. It was actually built by the Martian corporations before they left prior to the Great Destruction. It wasn't protecting LC 086. It was keeping the Layered Cities separated from reintegration, keeping the world from resurfacing."

Ace paused. Roihclem finally took a sip from his drink, "...Continue. I'm interested."

"It was a first line of defense."

Ace kept a solemn and sober look. Roihclem raised an eyebrow, "To what?" then it occurred as a ridiculous thought. Ancient Martian humans, building a satellite to keep Layered citizens from resurfacing... "No, you can't be suggesting-"

"Yes. Deep space scans indicate increased radio activity from Mars." Roihclem's eyes widened, "They're planning on taking the Earth back!"

"Impossible," stated Roihclem. "Even if the Martian inhabitants _wanted_ to come back to Earth, they simply couldn't. Their muscle density would've decreased over the years, and they couldn't handle a gravity increase such as Earth's. The only way would be constant conditioning as they head here."

"What makes you think they wouldn't do that?"

"It's just too unlikely. Besides, I can't trust _your_ sources."

"Then see it for yourself; Mars has Ravens. The natural satellite of Phobos was recently destroyed. It was also rumored that the old megalomaniac corporation of Kisaragi had connections to Martian corporations Emeraude and Zio Matrix. The technology Zio Matrix developed gave rise to the Controller, and... if you've forgotten... the Controller was the reason behind our secluded and imprisoned life in the Layered Cities."

Memories flooded into Roihclem's mind. He gave a shiver, "And what about the LC 086 AI? Wasn't the override signal coming from there?"

"Yes, but the satellite was just a convenient relay station."

"And... IBIS?"  
Ace sat up straight, "Nah, that was a creation made soon after we sheltered ourselves in Layered Cities. An AI branch to simultaneously work with their Controller mainframe."

"Do you know who made _that_?"

"No, I don't."

Roihclem calmed his nerves down, "And... what else?"

"The one who defeated Gustave Macross, you're searching for him?"

Staying silent with clenched teeth, Roihclem nodded his head.

Ace continued, "His name is Raven Cross." 

That name... Cross? Is that possible, considering that there aren't that many Cross's? "And where is he from?"

"LC 086."

Roihclem's thoughts were pierced. _HIM?!_ 'She' seems to haunt him wherever he goes. So that mechanical monstrosity _was_ human. Her legacy will end. If the great Gustave Macross lost to _him_, Raven Cross will be the greatest challenge he will ever face. A fitting last match, he thought. The haunting images will end if the last link from the past is eradicated.

***

Three months... it took Kylia this long to finally find the Tenlos Syndicate headquarters. It hadn't even been days since she recovered when Raven was kidnapped. Reese and Lexington were caught off guard. Raven came to see her in the hospital of Paradigm Layered, but he was taken before he could reach the main lobby. She gathered information from the vague number of witnesses, and they could only say that the automobile belonged to the Tenlos Syndicate, Raven's former employers.

For her quest she hired the help of Roger Smith. A past acquaintance that saved her from dying completely... twice. The syndicate was looking for skilled ravens for a secret assignment. 

Roger was a negotiator, after all. So it would only seem necessary to ask for his help. Reese and Lexington were more than happy. Lexington was working on a viral program that would allow Roger to hack into their mainframe at any time.

Their dropship came within range at the appointed coordinates given by the employer, the president of the syndicate named David Saitoh.

This was an empty forest in South Africa, no civilization within miles, but there_ was_ something awaiting them; a barrage of comm. messages. They flooded the communication waves, repeating variations of the same message, overlapping one another.

Roger shook his head, "That's a mess. Let's see if we can lock them down to a single transmission." His hands moved over the communication consol. It was a simple clearance message. 

At the sight of the massive base, Roger willed his stomach to stop crawling around, "All right. Here's your last bit of advice. Remember, we're just as arrogant as they are, but nowhere near as strong. So respond appropriately to bad manners, but not so appropriately that you get us killed. We're here for the job, so they don't know this is a rescue mission."

Reese mimed entering data on an imaginary keyboard. "No get killed," she said. "I'll try to remember."

"I'd like to say leave all the talking to me, but that's not going to work; we're here to impress them with our individual skill and readiness. Just keep all your responses in character, and refer any question about our unit strength, tactical readiness, that sort of thing, to me."

"Understood," Kylia said. Her voice was a little nervous, far different than the insinuating purr he was used to from her.

Kylia brought the armored aerial transport into the designated hangar. Within already were a pair of MTs, another transport, and three ACs.

And a reception committee. An officer and a half-dozen soldiers. One of the soldiers hand-guided Kylia to a landing pad marked off by red paint. Kylia set the transport down expertly.

"Show time," Roger said.

They descended the boarding ramp in proper form; Roger first, Reese and Kylia to either side of and behind him. Roger stopped directly before the officer. Neither that man or any of the soldiers reacted to his suit, not very common for a raven mercenary, the first time he could remember such a lack of response.

The officer before him was not what Roger had expected of a terrorist. The man was tall and lean, with features that might have been bland had they not been twisted into such a predatory smile. He seemed to glow with an inner light, and Roger suspected that it was a dangerous light. The man liked to win, or to kill, or to inflict pain... Roger wasn't sure which, but he did know that this was a man to watch.

Roger cleared his throat, "I am Roger Smith, negotiator of the Crimson Tide." He put on an urbane smile and lowered his voice, "I believe I have an invitation."

"Indeed you do. General Menniker. I am in charge of the Tenlos assault forces, and I welcome you to Tenlos HQ." The general shook Roger's hand. Firm grip, fast shake... he made no effort to conduct a contest of grip strength to demonstrate dominance. "Your associates?"

Roger gestured first to Kylia, then to Reese. "Captain Kylia, LC 386 Arena contender. Lieutenant Reese, my bodyguard."

"Delighted. Before we continue, though, there is a bit of bureaucratic unpleasantness to accomplish."

"Oh?"

The general looked regretful. "Lord Saitoh is a man with many enemies. For this reason, many policies surround him, policies that I do not let him overrule, for his own safety. One of them leads me to insist that you turn over all weapons to my men for the duration of your stay."

Roger shrugged. Then he drew his pistol with such speed that the soldiers present were caught off guard, their weapons out of line; he could have shot Menniker and one or two others before they would have been able to react. But just as quickly he flipped the pistol in the air and caught it, then handed it, butt first, to the nearest soldier. "I have no fear of treachery here," Roger said. "Alive, I promise additional strength to Saitoh. Killed, I would cost him very dearly."

Menniker gave him a polite nod and shrug, neither agreeing to nor denying Roger's assertion. Reese and Kylia handed over their own pistols in a less dramatic fashion. 

"The second part of this unfortunate protocol," Menniker said, "is that you must be scanned for additional weapons you might have forgotten to hand over, because of your habitual wearing of them almost as clothing rather than weapons. Please."

Obligingly, Roger and the others raised their arms and let a soldier specialist run a handheld scanner around them. Roger came up clean, then Kylia.

Then it was Reese's turn. His accoutrements also failed to trigger the scanner, but the soldier behind her obviously thought her arms needed to be a little higher; with the barrel of his rifle, he tapped the underside of Reese's arms to raise it.

Reese stepped back so that the soldier's barrel protruded beneath her right arm. She clamped her arm upon it, then twisted, simultaneously yanking the rifle out of the man's hand and bringing her elbow up under the armored soldier's helmet. A slight change to the angle of her attack and the blow would crush the man's windpipe, but Reese instead brought her elbow up into the man's chin. Everyone heard the crack of the man's jaw snapping shut.

The soldier dropped to the floor, his armor clattering.

The other soldiers aimed at Reese. With admirable aplomb, Reese slowly reached over to switch the rifle's safety on, then lowered the weapon onto its fallen owner. "Is there a problem?"

General Menniker's mouth twitched into what looked like an amused smirk. "You appear to be punishing one of my men."

"Punishing?" Reese looked down at the soldier as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, I assure you, no punishment was intended. That was simply reflex. If I'd intended to punish him, he'd be begging you to kill him now."

Roger turned back to Menniker, "My apologies."

The general shook his head, "No need to apologize. The soldier was not instructed to behave this way towards honored guests. I think a little experience with electricity will do him some good." He gestured for another soldier to attend to the unconscious man, then for Roger to fall in step behind him. "How much do I pay for this woman's services?"

"I'll never tell," Roger said. "If you want to try to hire her away, you'll have to offer a bribe without knowing my own economies."

Menniker offered a little sigh of vexation.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

File

While all of this was taking place, Lexington was in the storage compartment of the dropship. His personal watch revealed the activity within the main bridge via hidden micro-cameras placed throughout inconspicuous areas. The soldiers removed a few control panels, most likely the navigations to erase the course the arrived from, and later to erase the way they left. Code-slicers could adjust those systems all they wished, but their modifications would be trapped and later presented to the transport's authorized operators for confirmation or deletion.

The scanning team overlooked Lexington's compartment, and he was thankful for that fact. The departed and the boarding ramp rose into place. It was time to get moving.

His plan was underway. He had to get out of the dropship and hangar with his makeshift Tenlos uniform without the guards noticing, find his way to a fully-functioning computer, slice his way through the security, and upload his program. Then get back and wait. It would be tough, but he was a raven, and he could do it.

***

General Menniker and the Crimson Tide members swept into a command area that was a riot of activity.

A narrow but full-length dinner table, large enough to accommodate twenty people and more than half-filled with diners. Seated at the head of the table, his back to video screens now showing a recording of Earth swiftly rotating, a red four-pointed spiral-type object in the center. Sitting casually, in his spotless white commanding uniform, was Saitoh. His hands were clasped over his torseau, and his expression was of great content.

The officers assembled at the table were engaged in vigorous conversation. They were all talking, a jumble of noise that made the chamber sound like a conference hall rather than a war room.

General Menniker led Roger and the others toward the head of the table and had them sit before offering introduction. "Warlord, allow me to present you Negotiator Smith, Reese Rein, and Kaori Caan, honored representatives of the raven guild Crimson Tide. Roger Smith, your host, the warlord David Saitoh."

Roger offered a seated half bow.

Saitoh finally turned his attention to the new guests and smiled, "Good to meet you at last." His voice was nearly monotone. His string of words, obviously meant to be friendly, but seemed to strike fear. "Welcome to the empire of the Tenlos."

"A formidable syndicate. I hope we didn't do too much damage in the past, working for the CSA..." Roger said.

"Certainly not. Oh, several encounters with a Megadeus would be most inconvenient, but our capacity for repair is unparalleled. This entire construct was made to survive the Great Destruction. It used to belong to the remnants of some ancient government, what were they called... Natsee's, Nazei's, or something like that... Well, it's of no concern now."

Roger drew a hand across his brow, an exaggerated demonstration of relief. "Well, that's cause for us to celebrate. I have no qualms about preying on 'ground-pounders' like the people of Europe, but . . . and it costs me no honor to say it . . . I would avoid earning the prolonged enmity of Saitoh."

The warlord's smile became broader, "It was already obvious that you were an intelligent raven... else you would not have enjoyed your earlier successes. But before we get to the main subject of conversation for the evening, let us dine."

"Please." Roger knew he'd kept all tension from his voice and manner, but it was still there, and the meal was one more opportunity for Saitoh to visit some new difficulty upon them... such as poison. If they'd read the man correctly, there would be no such subterfuge here. But they could have made a mistake in their evaluation.

But, Roger was actually enjoying his main course, some sort of foul in a sunfruit marinade, and idly hoping it wasn't poisoned. Saitoh, seeing whatever lied behind Roger's eyes, seemed to make him laugh.

***

Lexington waited until the hallway was momentarily clear. He moved up to the closed elevator door and quickly popped open its control panel. Beneath was the usual collection of wiring and computer boards. Deftly, he stripped the insulation from two wires and twisted them together.

The elevator door slid open, revealing an echoing shaft beyond. Lexington untwisted the wires, slapped the control pad shut, and stepped out to grab the maintenance access rungs inside. He swung his feet clear of the opening just in time; the doors slid shut again just as rapidly.

Now he had to find a level where he could have some privacy... and access to a computer interlock.

Down or up? He could see the terminus of the shaft above him, some considerable distance, but not below him. That meant there was more to explore below. He climbed down.

Moments later, he gripped the rungs as though his life depended on it while a fast-moving elevator sailed past. The wind of its passage shook him and knocked his feet from the rail they rested on. Swearing to himself, he pulled himself back up and continued downward.

He needed to find a door that seemed as if it wasn't used as much as the others... Six levels down, he found an elevator door where the borders showed almost no wear. A good sign. He opened the maintenance panel leading to the control box . . . and nearly dropped off his rung in surprise.

This control box was not standard. In it was a sealed security module, an indication that whatever was beyond this door was very important to somebody.

He leaned away and held tight as another elevator shot past, this time rising from below, then returned to the problem at hand. This was probably too dangerous a level to enter for his task. On the other hand, this might be a security block, where Raven might be held. He broke out his pouchful of tools.

He could open the door from here without effort, but once the door was closed, he wouldn't be able to leave without proper authorization codes. It was time for some improvisation.

He put away his tools and brought out his automatic rifle. Then he tripped the switch to open the door.

It slid open silently, unlike most elevator doors, revealing a darkened hallway beyond. There was no-one in sight. He hopped from his rung perch to the passageway floor and swept it around in a covering arc, but there was still nobody to see.

It wasn't a passageway, exactly. It was a gallery, a long hall in which one wall was made up of large windows. The chambers beyond the windows were well lit. He liked that; it would be next to impossible for people within to see him. He activated the door panel from which he entered, and the door slid gracefully shut.

There was a computer terminal here on the panel, but that would not be safe. He advanced along the hallway with the precise pace of a Tenlos soldier looking for another.

There was one human male inside the first room, his feet up on his desk as he idly tapped away on a personal terminal; he looked as though he were playing a computer game. He took no note of Lexington.

Up ahead, despite the dimness of the hallway, Lexington could see an individual computer terminal in the left corner. He couldn't tell whether this passageway ended there or turned to the right. That was the terminal he needed, assuming it wouldn't alert anyone.

He passed by the next section of windows. These displayed a larger chamber, an operating theater. There was an operation in progress, a team of four males, gloved and masked, working on a human? Then he took a closer look.

Lexington tried to suppress a gag. He wasn't prepared for the sight of his friend Raven Cross being worked on as an experiment! Raven had some sort of drip tubes implanted in his head; fluids moved slowly from the bottles set up beside the operating table. He was also strapped in place . . . and he was awake. As Lexington watched, Raven screamed, the noise not penetrating the sound-proof windows.

These were not screams of pain, Lexington decided, but of rage. An unsettling image... Lexington shook his head. This couldn't be Raven, he thought, no way in hell! Just someone that _looked_ like his friend.

A few steps more, and the operating theater was behind him. He seated himself at the terminal and took out his viral program. Before he slid the disk into the drive, however, a file was already up on the main screen...

The main title itself caught Lexington off guard. He thought he was hallucinating, but... it drove him to read the file. In bold letters, the main title stated...

RAVEN J. CROSS

ID NO.#: TENLOS/59102734

PROJECT LEADER: Professor Cross, PhD, M.D., P.A., Professor Cosado PhD, M.D., LC 086 Lab Corp. 

PROJECT NO.#: TENLOS.GENE.SCI.vrc8706521

VRACE (Viral Responsive Anomaly with Cognitive Evolution) TEST PROJECT- INITIAL SUBJECT

1658a.34.99.vrace.nib.4728

INITIAL GENOMIC SEQUENCING OF FETAL HUMAN

BEGIN DATE: XX/XX/XX

END DATE: XX/XX/XX

DATE OF BIRTH: XX-XX-XXXX

PARENTS: MOTHER - Sera Cross, ID NO.#: TENLOS/8084209

FATHER - UNKNOWN

PROJECT'S EXPECTED RESULTS - To genetically create a human with the powers and abilities of the Martian ancestors.

EXPERIMENT LOG/SUBJECT PROGRESS:

ENTRY 1: Month 1: He is developing well, despite the feared complications associated with his totally compromised immune system, due to his previous rejections of exogenous VRACE cells. He appears to have contracted an unknown strain of cystic pneumatic infection in both of his lungs. His current treatments of tetracycline and erythromycin are being withheld due to the drugs' negative reactions to the VRACE cells. He is currently running a fairly high temperature of 102.4 F and is eating very little. Professor Cross is complaining that the drug therapy should be reinstated because of Raven's poor health. I am resisting these ideas, because any further complications with the implanted VRACE cells will put us so far behind schedule that we may risk losing even more valuable data.

ENTRY 2: Month 2: We have finally rid Raven of his persistent pneumonic infections by placing him in a clean room inside a sterile incubator. The VRACE cells have taken nicely now, and some mild developmental changes are being noted. His weight is considerably low, and he is now constantly crying at all hours of the night. Tranquilizers are administered to him now primarily to maintain the sanity of the staff, none of whom can seem to keep him quiet anymore. 

ENTRY 3: Month 6: Some amazing transformations have occurred with Raven over the past few months. His hair and eyes have both changed color over a two week span (the previous two weeks). His solid black hair has changed to being almost completely silver, and his dark brown eyes have now changed to an electric red that is almost luminescent. Unfortunately, he has contracted yet another unknown disease, which manifests itself as some sort of an reddish, oozing skin and nail disorder (an unknown fungal dematokeritosis?) and he is still feverish and crying heavily now, and the tranquilizers seem to be working less. I am worried that Professor Cross's nerves may be wearing thin on the entire project and I fear that he may try to cancel it because of Raven's failing health and constant complaining. I will switch his tranquilizers to low doses of diazepam and morphine without Professor Cross's knowledge. Perhaps if I can get Raven to be quiet, Cross might not be so inclined to cancel the project. 

ENTRY 4: Month 8: Raven is learning at a highly advanced rate, as shown by a recent intelligence exam. He has the memory capacity of a five-year old child now, and I am sure that he is comprehending what we are saying. Yet, he defies us yet again with his failure to communicate. His language skills are far behind those of even normal children. He has yet to utter a single word. Cross is worried that our techniques are far too clinical for Raven's personality and fears that he may be severely stunted emotionally, almost to the point of being permanently mute or autistic. He has brought up the subject of bringing in the child's biological mother for support, but I said that that is not feasible. Professor Cross herself said that contact with her son would endanger the experiment... and her, how did she put it... 'life insurance.'

ENTRY 5: Year 1, 4 months: Raven is plagued with constant little afflictions and illnesses, which I do my best to hide from Professor Cross. I have been also secretly hiding the fact that I am treating Raven with far more VRACE cells than stingy Cross would ever allow. Cross's VRACE regimen for Raven has already been completed by his notes for fear of transmutation or further destruction of his body - i.e., Raven would receive no more treatments with any VRACE cells or genes because Cross is afraid to. But I am not happy with Raven's development as of now... so since he is my subject, I believe that in the end, it is MY decision as to how many treatments he will be given, and for how long. Raven is still not talking, and has only very recently has he begun to walk correctly. (He has either crawled on his belly or has knelt and walked on his knees for months now.) No amount of trying could seem to break him of these bad habits, as he is showing signs of being very stubborn and belligerent to authority figures. He has completely ignored me for months and no longer even looks at me or nor will he acknowledge my existence when I step into his room. Although it is strange... he does not seem to show these ignoring tendencies with Cross's lab assistants.

ENTRY 6: Year 2, 10 months: Raven got angry with me almost six months ago and uttered his first words! This came about while I was trying to give him another VRACE treatment, and since he has a bad fear of needles, he did not want the injection, naturally. So as I was holding his arm down to insert the needle, he yelled very loudly, and told me to stop. I was so shocked by this outburst that I nearly dropped the syringe into my leg. I asked him if he could talk again, but he once again became quiet. When I composed myself, I got one of Cross's female assistants to come in and ask him for me, to speak again. She did, and he answered her politely, as if he had known how to speak the entire time! He speaks now, but only when he is asked to. He never offers any extra information or interrupts an adult while they are speaking. He is still quiet and reserved, but I assume that it is some part of his personality showing through. He appears to be withdrawn and depressed most of the time, but a few of our younger techs have been successful in prodding him enough to get him to laugh. (His rare laughter appears to be very contagious among some of the less-experienced college-age assistants.) Some of the assistants have reported that he sometimes sits alone in a dark corner of his room with his knees drawn up to his chest, and sings to himself. This is very odd, and quite unusual because of the fact that he has never heard any songs before. His fevers have subsided (thankfully!) for a while, but I have every reason to assume that they will return. His skin problems have faded and he is doing much better. He is showing signs of becoming more like the child that I had hoped that he would become.

ENTRY 7: Year 4, 11 months: He is constantly studying! He has been reading since age 3, and is now doing rather complex arithmetic now. All subjects seem to interest him; literature, philosophy, history, art, science... all subjects seem to hold immense fascination for him. Some of the assistants tell me though, that when I leave the room, Raven begins reading other books when I turn away. When I have asked 'what books does he read then?' they always tell me, 'fairy tale books.' I can't even possibly begin to see why he would like those dusty old nonsense stories so much. He has a firm grasp on both concrete and abstract thought, and has the equivalent intelligence of a 12 year-old child. It is odd, but it would appear that Raven never plays, but he does draw and write a lot, although he never lets anybody see his pictures or read his writings. (He has the nastiest tendencies to destroy his secret works by writing and drawing only in watercolor paints... and then when an adult comes by, he immediately immerses his work in water from either his paint water cup or from his sink. We tried to videotape him while he was creating his pictures and writings, but he would not do these things when a camera was in his room. Sometimes, we would catch him writing or drawing when we knew that a camera was hidden in the room... but when we would go to look at what was taped, only to find that he had either destroyed or disassembled the so-called 'hidden' cameras. We also tried to prevent him from having any water to destroy his work with, but he succeeded in foiling us again by simply plunging his works into his toilet. I must give him credit for his incredible ingenuity! We eventually gave up trying to see his secret work, which will remain a mystery to all but himself, but what I can say for sure is that he seems to use a lot of black in his art, apparently from the heavy usage of that color in his paint-set.) Right now, as I write my personal notes here, I can see him, reading yet another book. I think it is one of his favorite books, '_Childhood's End_.' I do realize the irony in that fact, and I realize the fact that the book was never intended for children of his age... but he is no monster. He is getting better all the time. He will be better than me one day, soon, and perhaps he will become a scientist, like me, but better. I think that being around him may be making me too soft towards him. I have to remember, that he is only so good because I made him that way. I have to continue my hard work. But all in all, he is doing good. In fact, Raven is doing so good, that even stubborn Cross is now approving of my work! (A rare feat indeed!)

ENTRY 8: Year 7, 3 months: It has been as while now since I have logged anything here. Many things have happened in this time. Raven is very strong now. And he is very anti-social and active, and is required to be drugged at all times with Ritalin and various Quaaludes and opiates. This problem began when he was 5, when Cross mistakenly thought that Raven had 'social problems that could be fixed with more contact with people of his own age outside of this lab.' So the idiot took him without my knowledge to some children's daycare center, where immediately upon arrival, Raven was placed in a playroom with several other children. Some other child then took a plastic ball bat and began swinging it around like some little ape, and hit Raven in the head with it. He immediately responded by turning on the offending child with such quick and brutal violence that the attack resulted in that child's loss of hearing in one ear and the loss of an eye, both due to extreme head trauma. A young daycare worker was severely injured as well when he tried to intervene. I believe that attack ended in a broken arm. Also, after the series of brutal attacks at the daycare center ended, Raven promptly fainted, and appeared to have gone into some sort of strange neurological spasms and intense an uncontrollable grand mal seizures, and nearly died of shock related to a hyper reaction to an overproduction of epinephrine in his system. But after he recovered, he was forever banned from having any contact with other children (this was perfectly fine by me, seeing as how they treated him in the daycare center) his violence returned yet again, Raven began constantly attacking the male assistants and technicians (He has never bothered the female assistants, in fact, we have never had any problems with Raven and the female workers)... and even I too have been injured by his great strength and physical capabilities. I have suffered several black eyes and a broken nose from harassing him too much when he did not desire my intrusion. In addition to all of this, Cross found out about my extra VRACE treatments. Raven told her assistant one day, when I was not around. Cross of course, was furious. But what do I care? I have made Raven strong, his attacks prove this. He is far better than any normal child. Cross just does not seem to realize this yet, but it does not matter anymore, Cross has recently had enough with me and this project and thankfully, has left it! Unfortunately, she has also taken with him an assistant which herself may be the very last surviving Martian immigrant! This is a surprising turn of events here, and one that is far too intriguing to pass up.

ENTRY 9: Year 13, 4 months: After he found out about Professor Cross's untimely death on the IBIS project, Raven has become far more withdrawn and depressed than ever before. He is still as he always was, quiet and never rude or defiant, (Although... actually, he does try to defy me in one way - he has let his silver bangs grow very long, and he simply will not allow it to be cut it anymore. But actually, it does look quite good on him, so much so, that even I have decided to try letting my hair grow long, too - but I will not tell him this.) but I have found that he does not listen to me when I instruct him and teach him his lessons, unless I am very rude to him. I have always remained very calm and collected around him, but for these past 6 years, I have been forced to play 'evil taskmaster' around him. Personally, I would prefer it if he simply followed my orders as I give them. He has become very self-reliant, like me... so actually I cannot blame him entirely for that. I believe that he is selectively following directions and orders, depending on whether or not he thinks that he can execute his task masterfully or not. (Which, he when he does choose to do his work and follow orders, he performs his tasks with impeccable flawlessness and perfection, as he constantly desires approval and positive attention from anyone.) He has not been sick for several years now, and he is now almost my height. He is incredibly strong and has gained considerable respect among the Tenlos family. And yet he remains depressed. Although I can't understand it, I have been trying to solve it chemically with Prozac type anti-depressants... but they don't seem to work anymore. It would appear that Raven has reached a sort of plateau in his VRACE developments, as he is no longer getting any stronger or brighter. I am now searching for something that will allow him to challenge himself further as he has too much potential to sit idly around, relearning the lessons that I have already taught him, while he wastes his powers looking out of the lab windows.

FINAL ENTRY: Year 14, 1 month: At President Tenlos and young General Saitoh's request, (This was secretly against my own desires, but since it had been Tenlos who had funded this and all of my side programs, I was truly stuck between the literal rock and a hard place.) Raven was enlisted as a _raven _(mercenaries hired by corporations, how ironic...). They both thought that a boy of such potential could serve the Tenlos best in their war against the CSA. Raven was not exactly thrilled with the news, and he responded by not eating or talking for a week. Soon after he began talking with us again, the President himself came and spoke to Raven. Raven was finally talked into accepting the assignment sometime later that week. He will leave soon for training camp, perhaps in three days, if Saitoh has his way about it. I am not sure if he is excited about beginning his training or not, but he seems to be excited mostly about the trip to the training camp. I suspect that he probably just wants to get away from me and this boring lab. Personally, I am not really looking forward to seeing him go, but if that is the way that it must be, then so be it. Perhaps the raven fold will teach him the things that I have been unable to. The things like discipline, how to follow orders, how to handle yourself in social situations, how to effectively channel your physical energy into something other than staring out at the world. Perhaps it might even be the thing that I was searching for.. his new challenge in life. But I do still have secret hopes that one day, he will come back to me and he will realize everything that I have done for him, all of my sacrifices to make his life perfect...

- _Professor Cosado_ , PhD, M.D., LC 086 Lab. Corp.


	4. Chaper 3

Chapter 3

NO ESCAPE

Lexington had to keep a certain amount of attention on the hallway behind him as he continued to search and bypass the computer security. After reading Reese's file, he set it aside for later in his personal disk. So far, none of the scientists or technicians from the rooms beyond the windows had stepped out into the hall, but he couldn't count on his luck lasting forever.

And the computer security here was _good_. It took whoever made this program years to assemble, and he was trying to bypass it in a matter of minutes. So far, it wasn't going well.

So he was upset. Barely able to concentrate on what he was doing.

No, that didn't make any sense. Tough systems were a challenge to him, not an aggravation, and sharpened his concentration rather than diminishing it. So why _was_ he upset? He leaned back, away from the screen with its unhelpful rejections of all his most reasonable requests, to think about it.

Even his stomach was upset, and that finally pointed him to the source of his emotion. It was what he'd seen moments ago. The human on the operating table, a quite possibly innocent being maddened by unknown chemicals until it was full of rage.

It was ridiculous. He didn't care about such things. Ethical experiments had no bounds outside of the Layered Cities, and if syndicate scientists decided to work on their own species, that was fine.

But the sick feeling persisted.

That person's life was over. Even if he miraculously escaped its captivity, he would be forever changed by what happened to him. Could he return to his place of origin, his family, knowing he had been violated, knowing what he had been made to feel and do, and still go back to the way of life he had known before? Lexington didn't think so.

He swore to himself. He didn't have time for this. But the images persisted, crowding out the techniques and procedures he needed to use for his current mission, filling him with an unwanted emotion.

Sympathy.

Sympathy for that person who might deserve what he was being treated to. That man on the table brought a collection of tragedy.

Caught up as he was in these thoughts, Lexington still heard the hiss of the elevator door far behind him. He powered down the terminal, grabbed his disk and helmet, and scuttled around the corner to his right before peering back the way he'd come.

A half squadron of Tenlos soldiers, dimly visible in the passageway's gloom, advanced towards him. Their steps were unhurried. Halfway toward him along the passageway, the leader rapped smartly against the nearest window. Having apparently gained the attention of someone beyond it, he tapped the side of his head, an obvious signal for someone inside to get to a comlink to receive his transmission.

_Damn_ it. The had to be looking for him. What had he done wrong? He was certain he'd covered his tracks when powering up the computer terminal.

No, wait. When he'd first popped the cover on the control box inside the elevator shaft and discovered the heavy-duty security there... he hadn't known about that level of security until he'd opened the box in the first place. If there was a sensor on the box itself, a sensible precaution for a set of controls leading into a very secure area, he would have set it off without ever realizing it.

He drew away from the corner. Behind him was another window, this one into an office area, currently unoccupied. He tapped the "open" switch on the control panel on the side. The little screen on the panel read ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE.

At the soldier's rate of approach, they'd be on him before he could break through that security and get into that office.

What would it be . . . bluff or fight? There was no way bluff would work; it would only serve to keep him in one place while the rest of the soldiers approached. He readied his rifle.

The lead soldier came around the corner and froze momentarily. "What's your-"

Lexington fired in automatic. His shots took the soldier in the gut and threw him back against the far wall.

Lexington didn't wait for the next soldier to appear. He fired again, this time into the window, shattering it inward, and leaped into the office beyond.

He landed and spun, aiming back through the broken window. Two more soldiers rounded the corner, bringing their arms to bear on the spot where he stood a moment before. Lexington fired again twice, his first shot taking the nearest soldier in the chest. The other dove for the deck, out of sight below the rim of the window, and Lexington's shot missed.

A shrill alarm sounded as the lights in the office began flickering in time to it. 

There was another door out of the office, leading in the general direction of the elevator, and its control panel was responsive. It opened into what appeared to be a scrub room, all sinks and lockers and decontamination chambers, with no windows out into the passageway.

The next door opened just as readily into the operating theater. The medical technicians there had ceased their ministrations of their human experiment and were watching the activity on the other side of the window. The last of the soldiers passed by, heading toward the scene of action Lexington had just left.

A high-caliber bullet went over Lexington's shoulder and hit one of the technicians in the back of the head. Lexington saw the man, his head now a mass of blood and brain matter, topple forward as slowly as if sinking into heavy oil. The other technicians turned towards him in similar slow motion.

He spun, firing before he could even see his target. A soldier stood in the open doorway between the office and the scrub room, a perfect target, and Lexington's unaimed shots took him in the legs. The man toppled over with a shriek.

Lexington slapped the near control panel and the door slid shut. He turned back to the technicians; they already had their hands up. One couldn't take his eyes from the bloody mass that had once been the head of his colleague.

It would take just one blast to blow out the near window. He could leap through and get back to the elevator before the three soldiers still mobile were likely to catch up to him. That was it, then. But as he traversed to aim at the window, he saw the man on the table looking at him. He couldn't believe it, it _was_ Reese. No-one could look just like him. His hair and eyes were the same since Lexington last saw him. But the eyes... they seemed to be holes leading to a world of pure pain.

He hesitated, then pulled out his military knife from a belt pouch. He cut through Reese's ankle restraints, then went to work on his wrist straps.

"Don't!" shouted one of the technicians, his eyes wide. "That's not a Human anymore, he's a killer-"

"Right." Lexington finished with the last strap, then backed away.

The technician who'd spoken bolted, got to the doorway, and slapped the control. The door opened, and the technician caught a bullet just beneath his gut. He folded over, still alive, and began screaming.

Reese rolled up off the table, tubes still gruesomely inserted into his skull. He glared with malevolence at Lexington, then turned towards the remaining technicians and advanced on them. The rolling carrier holding the bottle of drip chemicals tipped over and was dragged along. Reese spotted something through the door, probably the soldier who last fired, and paused, obviously trying to decide the best course of action.

Reese turned his head to meet Lexington's gaze, "Go... now!"

Lexington hesitated in thought, then fired at the window, blowing it out, and leaped through the hole he'd hade. There was nothing between him and the elevator door. He dropped his knife and dragged out his disk as he ran.

Then there was pain, an agony so intense he couldn't even tell where it began, and he was falling . . . slamming down onto the passageway floor.

Pain bent him as though he were a puppet in the hands of a malevolent child. He could see, and even barely understand, the spot on the back of his left thigh where a bullet had cut through the stolen armor and the flesh beneath. He could see the soldier who'd shot him; the man was advancing at a walk, his rifle ready for another shot.

And then there was the elevator door, too far away for a man reduced to crawling.

They had him. They had him, and they had his disk, which contained everything Saitoh would need to know about him, Roger, Reese, Kylia... and their mission here.

Hands twitching from the pain, he held his disk out before the barrel of his gun, and squeezed the trigger.

***

"Now," Saitoh said over the iced pastry that was their dessert course, "To the matter which has led to our meeting."

Roger sat back, assuming a false expression of contentment. "Please."

"I am about to embark on a mission. It will be a large-scale military engagement."

"You're going to attack your CES enemies?"

"That is correct. I anticipate AC and carrier response and need all the AC support I can get . . . especially considering my recent losses." He made a growl of that last statement. "But if you are as effective against my enemies as you have been against me, I will have lost no strength in efficiency." An aide appeared over his shoulder and whispered to him. His expression did not change, but he rose. "I must attend to business for a few moments. Menniker, please continue this briefing." He took a few steps away with his aide.

Menniker smiled, an expression suggesting he'd be happiest if pulling wings off of insects. "It's a refueling and trade station belonging to the Corporate Sector Authority. In its warehouses is a considerable quantity of material we need. Critical supplies. We also need time to load that material into our cargo vessels. Not a lot of time, but enough time for the corporate defenses to begin sending squads of MTs . . . and to bring in more squadrons from combat carriers arrayed around the area."

Roger whistled, "You're after valuable cargo. What is it?"

Menniker shook his head, "That's a secret . . . until you're at the mission site."

"What _we_ need to know," Saitoh said, returning to his seat, "Is how many Armored Cores you can bring to bear in support of this mission."

"Six," Roger said. He noted that Saitoh's merry demeanor now seemed forced.

"Only six?"

"We fight like twenty."

"You fight like _thirty_. And we'll pay you like thirty."

"Meaning..."

"Your commission is four million credits, deliverable immediately upon completion of the mission. We try to keep Global Cortex and those blood-hungry mongrels out of the picture for expenses."

Roger tried to keep from displaying the surprise he felt. That was a fortune, enough to purchase at least three new ACs with replacement supplies! "And if your mission fails, no payment at all?"

"No, you get the entire amount regardless... assuming you don't let me die in the engagement."

"I'm still impressed. If I didn't know Crimson Tide's abilities, I would suspect you were overpaying us."

Saitoh dropped his false smile, "I _am_ overpaying. I predict that some of yours, and some of mine, will die in the engagement. I intend to pay enough that all our pilots go into battle eager to succeed, happy to risk their lives. Comforted that if they die, their widows and children will be amply compensated. After all, money tames humans just like food tames dogs."

Roger considered it. "I'd be happy to earn still more. I have more Crimson Tide members than I do ACs. Many with technical proficiency. Many with other skills."

"Intrusion skills?"

Roger smiled. "I was right. You're going to position a team before your army arrives."

Saitoh shrugged, "We obviously think alike. Yes, of course."

"I have intrusion experts. Some with experience with both LC 086 corporate and other LC systems."  
"And also," Menniker interrupted, "you have her." He extended one finger towards Reese.

"And her teacher," Roger said.

Menniker looked surprised. "Her . . . teacher?"

Reese brushed her hair back, her signature gesture, and looked miffed.

"Her teacher. Deadliest unarmed combatant I ever met. Another woman, deceptively sweet in appearance, which makes it easy to insert her into most environments. Not her equal in piloting . . . but I once saw her kill eleven armed CSA guards. She herself was unarmed."

Saitoh and menniker exchanged glances. Saitoh said, "Surely you're exaggerating."

"He's not," Reese said, her first words since they sat. "Medisa, that's my teacher, started on one with a shot to his spine that compressed the spinal cord and apparently damaged a couple of his vertebrae, all of which partially paralyzed him. Broke a couple of his fingers too, just for fun. You know how female Reeses are. Then-"

"Reese, please." Roger made his voice admonishing, but inwardly was pleased by Reese's improvisation. "Do forgive her. Combat is her only love."

"Quite all right," Saitoh said. "You will provide me with dossiers on Crimson Tide members that have technical skills so I can evaluate possible roles for them?"

"I will. Just give me a way to send them to you."

"Menniker will give you a set of satellite times and frequencies before you leave."

"And as much data as you can give us on this mission so we can run our own simulations?"

Menniker produced a disk from a pocket and slid it over to him.

"Would you be averse to a small commission now?" asked Saitoh.

"Not at all."

Saitoh stared back toward the security foyer, the route by which Roger and the others had entered. Two soldiers were advancing, dragging a third soldier backward between them. The third man was limp in their arms and had no helmet on. His hair was a dirtied chestnut brown.

"I must be sure of your ruthlessness," Saitoh said. "I know you're capable of killing in fair combat, but I want men... oh, yes, and women... who can kill under less adverse circumstances. So, If you'd please shoot this man for me?"

The soldiers dumped their human cargo by the foot of the table.

The man they had carried was Lexington. His eyes were closed. There was a bullet wound on his right leg. His chest rose and fell in regular rhythm.

Roger swallowed the bile that tried to crawl up his throat and hoped that he had not gone as pale as he felt. _Lexington, you idiot. you've killed us all._


End file.
